Time in Between
by beenawhile
Summary: Being a victor was hard and isolating, so few people truly understood what they went through. But when the capitol's eye is distracted they take time for small comforts with themselves and each other. A series of one-shots
1. Take a Breath (Johanna)

Johanna pushed her way through the crowd, stopping for only loyal district seven sponsors. She had her eyes on one thing, and one thing only, the dessert table. If she, like every other presentable victor, was forced to go to this event, then she would at least indulge all the superficial needs she had.

As she surveyed the sea of neon in front of her, she watched other district mentors sweet talking potential sponsors.

' _Are you kidding me? The games just ended'_ she thought.

She watched the newest member to the oh-so exclusive group of victors parade themselves with all the arrogance and pride she had come to expect from careers. Still Johanna couldn't help but feel pity and a little envy, for their ignorance of what's to come. She suddenly lost her appetite.

This façade, this image the capitol presented had fooled, had fooled all of them. The ridiculous fashion and the pastry that was mostly icing seemed so glamourous. It promised safety and satisfaction. Instead she, and many others traded their privacy, freedom, families, and humanity, for what seemed like, from the outside, a perfect life.

"These are so much better than sugar cubes."

Finnick's voice took Johanna out of her own head. She looked over to the Capitol's sweetheart walking towards her with a woman dressed head to toe in neon green and yellow. She looked like a toxic dandelion.

"My dear, can you give me and Johanna a moment to talk?" Finnick asked.

As soon as the woman turned her back to walk a way his charming smile left his face.

"Whoever said neon was in this season is an idiot."

"Aww, I think her outfit was nice, it really brings out your eyes."

Finnick laughed bitterly.

After a few seconds of silence between the two Johanna asked,

"So, what did you want to talk to me about?"

"Nothing, I just needed a moment without her pouring all of her 'problems' on me. I couldn't care less about her brand loyalty, just shop at both of the places," despite being taller, Finnick rested his forehead on Johanna's shoulder, "I just can't wait to go home."

Johanna looked down at her friend, and couldn't help but think about how vulnerable he looked. She couldn't have that.

"Hey, no moping. Not her, not now," she shrugged off Finnick and turned to face him, "You just have this party. Just push your way through tonight and you can go back to your little district family, or whatever so great in four. So, smile," Johanna put on an exaggerated smile, "and laugh with me."

She forced out a boisterous laugh and he followed suit. Whether it was from exhaustion or the bizzare, though grim, situation both of them were thrown into after the games, their laughter soon became genuine, if a bit hysterical.

After a few curious glances in their direction in their direction both victors calmed down and settled into a comfortable silence. After a few seconds passed, Finnick said,

"This doesn't end for me until tomorrow morning."

Some other Victor, one who didn't completely understand his situation, would have wink and say he was lucky, or sneer and accuse him of being, just like the Capitol's citizen, complacent and blind to what was truly going on. Johanna did neither, because she had once been in his position and had lost everything. Despite knowing what Finnick was going through, all she could think to say was,

"I'm sorry"

"Yeah, well I- "Finnick's posture and expression suddenly changed, "I enjoyed talking to you, Johanna."

As he finished speaking, his companion he was with earlier slipped past behind Johanna and once again linked her arm with the district four victor who wore the same charming smile he had when he first approach Johanna. He looked approachable and relaxed.

"Talking to you was like a breath of fresh air. Stay funny, See you around." Finnick winked and gave her a grateful smile before melting back into the crowed with the toxic dandelion in his arms.

Left alone at the dessert table, Johanna filled her plate with as much as she could and followed Finnick's lead. She entered back into the sea of neon, counting down the minutes until she could leave.


	2. It's Okay, I'm Going Home (Finnick)

Finnick woke up with a start. Adrenaline still pumped through his veins, while a part of him still stuck in his dreams. This was the third night in a row where he had the sam feeling of warm blood splattering on his face still stuck, and the sight of the last tribute, his last rival, was always there every time he blinked. what what her name? Aiva? Alpha? Amphrite?

' _I had to_ ,' he thinks to himself, ' _it was the only way to get home. It's over, I'm going home, I'll be okay._ '

"It's over, I'm going home, I'll be okay." He whispered this to himself over and over again. He listened to the steady beat of the clock, focusing on the seconds passing by.

Tick.

"It's over."

Tock.

"I'm going home."

Tick.

"I'll be okay."

Finnick repeated this mantra until he drifted back to sleep

The next time he woke up, the orange rays of sunrise spilled through the cracks of the curtains. Though he had a dreamless second sleep, Finnick woke up with and uneasy feeling in his stomach. Then he realized he was on a train.

The sick feeling from the unsettling motion of the locomotive made itself clear to him when he opened the curtains and looked outside. He quickly closed the curtains, turned around and stumbled his way into the bathroom. He barely made it to the toilet when he felt the bile rise up his throat and spill out into the toilet bowl in front of him.

Why was he on this train? He hated trains. They weren't like boats. Boats rocked smoothly and moved with the waves, trains just plowed through every rock and twig which cause the train to rattle or, in this case, moved too fast and too smooth to be anywhere near natural.

' _How did I get here? The Games. Yes the Games. It's over though, I'm going home.'_ he tells himself.

Soon there was nothing left in his stomach to churn out still, Finnick heaved into the toilet. Nothing came out yet his body insisted that he had to expel whatever poison was in him. He tried to take deep breaths.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Inout.

Inout.

Ininout

Inoutinoutinout.

Soon Finnick couldn't control his breath. He was feeling light-headed and his thoughts began to speed up to catch up with his breathing and he was thrown back into the Games.

All those faces that wore the same expression of fear, they cycled through his mind. He made sure not to learn their beforehand, it would make their deaths less personal, is what he told himself. But somehow that made things worse. They had names and lives, and Finnick took from them. He felt a hand on his shoulder and recoiled.

"Hey, it's okay."

It was one of his mentors. Finnick looked up, and tried to remember the name of the face in front of him. Mags. It was Mags.

"Just breath, breath with me. In"

Finnick took in a shaky breath.

"It's okay, you're okay. Out"

He let himself relax and felt his shoulders drop as Mags carefully placed her hand on it.

"You're on your way home. In"

"It's over." Finnick says, looking up at his mentor who seemed to confirm the reassuring things he kept telling himself.

He watched her features shift to an expression of pity.

"No."

Mags looked down, avoiding his gaze.

"I'm sorry Finnick," Mags continued "but it's never going to be over, you are going to have to perform for the Capitol for the rest of your life."

"What," Finnick whispered "but they said-"

"It's a lie."

"That's not fair"

"Finnick, listen to me."

Mags grabbed both sides of his arms, forcing him to face her.

"I know it's not fair, but better to confront it now than later."

Finnick looked up at the older woman. He didn't realize how old she was. She always seemed so energetic. But her grey hairs outnumbered the brown, and her skin wasn't as smooth as he remembered. Frown lines and forehead wrinkles presented themselves clear as day. It occurred to him that this wasn't the first time Mags has done this. District Four had a fair amount of Victors, and she certainly wasn't the youngest. Finnick had so many questions.

' _why didn't you tell us? Why did you tell us that it would be an honour to win? Is it worth it to train us so young when death is is better than what I have to live with? How can I live with these memories? How do you? How does anyone? What do you mean it's not over?'_

But, he was tired and just wanted to close his eyes and go back to sleep. So he just said,

"Okay."

"Now come, we're almost home and you need to be ready for the cameras."

"Can't I stay in bed for five more minutes?"

'Five minutes won't do you any good. Just have some coffee."

"It tastes gross."

Mags paused for a few seconds before giving Finnick her final offer.

"Get ready now, and I'll answer all your questions after the day is over."

"I don't-"

"Yes, you do. They always do."

As much as he wanted to sleep, Finnick knew that he wouldn't be able to until he got all his answers.

"Fine."

With that, Mags handed him a tablet that was no bigger than the tip of his pinky.

"It will help with the motion sickness."

Finnick took the pill, got up, and helped Mags up to her feet.

"You'll just have to take it one day at a time," she told him "one day at a time."


	3. Here For a Reason (Haymitch)

The moment Haymitch saw the District tributes he knew there was no hope. Again.

"Fuck."

It's been 15 years since he won and there have been no results. Sure, his district is part of the career pact but, 15 years? 15 years? And Haymitch is still the only victor.

"You know, they have a chance if you actually mentored them, some of your mentees would have a chance to win," said Messalina.

Haymitch couldn't care less at that moment. He had spread himself across the couch, his grey shirt blended into his surroundings. The sterile environment reflected the warm sunlight streaming in, and the glint of a wine bottle that an avox was taking off the table caught his eye.

"What's the point, they'll both die anyways."

He reached out just as the avox passed by and took the bottle. He took a swig as he stood up to walk away and avoid any more conversation but, she followed.

"You don't know that, you won, who's to say that someone else in District Twelve will do the same."

Haymitch turned around to face the persistent woman

"Trust, me I would know if they had a chance. They're all too meek, to scared. None of them have any bite."

"Not all victors fought their way to the top," Messalina argued.

"Sure, the best hiders, swimmers, the one kid who payed attention to the plants and bugs section in training."

"Those things take memory and practice."

"Ooooh, you're right, we'll practice by playing hide-and-seek."

"You know what I mean. You can also talk to sponsors."

"Who would want to bet on some kids from District Twelve? The girl is a hundred pounds soaking wet,"

"That's supposed to be your job make them want to spend money on them."

Haymitch absently scratched his arm as he rolled his eyes at the argument that he had heard hundreds of times before.

"God, I can't wait 'til you retire."

"Actually, I heard I'm going to be promoted," the Capitol woman huffed.

"Wow, who's ass or assess did you have to kiss for that?"

"If you must know, every year, while you have been drinking your life away, I've been trying to get sponsors. They probably admire dedication and work ethic."

Haymitch stared at the boisterous, short person in front of him and wondered if she really believed what she was saying. The Capitol was obsessed with youth, there is no way that they would let the aging woman be in front of camera for longer than she had to be. He's seen the Hunger Games footage, they don't even show her when she's speaking. Instead the camera showed all the malnourished kids who anxiously hoped their names wouldn't be called. Haymitch thought about voicing his thoughts but considered that he would be stuck with her for the next few weeks. So, he simply turned around and walked away, toward the door to the next car.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm not drunk enough for this."

"But-"

"Bye."

* * *

Haymitch looked around the room. The only reason he was here was for the free and fancy Capitol booze. With his blurry vision he stumbled his way to nowhere in particular, when someone knocked him off his already shaky balance. He stayed down on the ground for a while partly because he couldn't stand up and, also because he didn't want to.

"You would probably have more fun if you weren't in other people's way, or on the ground."

Haymitch saw an arm stump reaching out for him and looked up to see Chaff's with a bottle in hand. He took his friend's offer and pulled himself up.

"They almost killed me, I think tripping them is the least I can do to them."

"C'mon I found a new spot, it's closer."

Chaff jerked his head to the exit and turned to walk towards it without looking back to see if Haymitch followed. He did his best to keep up and stumbled after him as the other man led them through a series of hallways and stairwells without speaking.

After ten minutes Haymitch broke the silence.

"It's close my ass,' he grumbled.

"we'd be there by now if you walked faster," the other man said as he pushed open the door in front of him, "we're almost there anyways. You trust me?"

Irritated and impatient, Haymitch held a tight grip on his forearm and muttered, "Yeah, sure, whatever."

He soon realized they were going up, rather than down to the basement like they usually did. Eventually he and Chaff climbed a ladder and opened a hatch that led to the roof. Chaff settled down high up on the roof ridge. Both victors looked down at the scene below.

The loud music was muffled by distance, and the lights were dimmed by the semi-transparent tarps that hovered above party, shielding the party goers from the light shower of rain.

"I bet if one drop of water fell on any of their wigs it would collapse."

A small smile was on Haymitch's lips.

"It would be pandemonium," he said, feigning horror at the thought of hundreds of Capitol folk throwing tantrums over ruined wardrobe

Both men watched the crowd before them in a comfortable silence, the bottle of whiskey periodically passed between them.

Haymitch's eyes followed the newest victor, it was easy enough, the people of the Capitol always wanted to see the pretty new thing. He wondered how they would handle their new found fame a fortune.

"How do you think they'll do?" He asked out loud.

"Huh? Who?"

"The new kid. You think they'll stay sane?"

"They'll be fine, District Two has a bunch of victors to keep them company, I bet Brutus is already preparing a barbeque and taking out some picnic basket. Enobaria is probably ready to be there to talk things out."

"Wow, a support system? What's that like?" Haymitch took the bottle and took a deep drink before giving it back to Chaff.

"Do you think we would have turned out differently, if we had company?"

"What do you mean? You have Seeder and what's-his-face. I have – had Sparrow."

Haymitch took a second to remember his long since passed district victor partner before Chaff pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Do you think someone who files their theeth to fangs is sane?"

"We've all fought in the games, I don't think any of us are. That's why we do what we do."

Chaff hummed, raising the bottle in agreement.

"You can try helping your kids. You'll have someone else at Twelve to talk to, then"

"Chaff, I'm going to punch the next person to tell me that."

Chaff put his hand up in surrender.

"I'm just saying."

"You think I didn't try? You think I didn't try teaching them essential survival skills? Skill can only take you so far. All of us, all victors are here because we had enough in us to survive, but more importantly, we had a shit-ton of luck."

"Yeah, I'm sure Finnick, Brutus, Enobaria, and Perri, and the siblings were really lucky."

"They were. So were Annie, Woof, Darry, Nuts and Volts, you, and me."

Skill, strength, really tiny and camouflaged, both of them are crazy smart, I had strategy, and you had enough foresight to exploit a flaw in the system," Chaff countered.

"We got into the Hunger Games by chance-"

Haymitch was interrupted by Chaff blowing a raspberry.

"Some of us volunteered to be tributes."

"Fine, forget Careers. While we were in the arena, we just so happened to be at the right place at the right time."

Chaff blew another raspberry.

"You led the District One girl to the edge of the arena, Beetee used the environment and his knowledge of electricity, And I literally cut down trees so that my plan would work out. We made our environment to work for us. We're here for a reason."

Haymitch looked at Chaff confused and irritated, furiously scratching his arm.

"Why are you fighting me on this?"

"Why are you sure it's all by chance?" Chaf asked, offering the bottle of booze.

"Why are you so sure that it's not?" Haymitch shot back, shoving Chaff's hand away from himself.

Taken off guard by the aggression and his rejection of the drink, both men turned their attention to the party below, unsure of what to do or say next.

It was quiet for a bit, while both were trying to figure out what to say. Haymitch finally broke the silence,

"If it's by chance, then none of it's my fault, I have no deaths on my hand."

Uncomfortable with the shift in the tone of the conversation Chaff just said,

"Well shit. I just thought you were being stubborn and over dramatic."

Haymitch took the bottle from Chaff and drank.

"Yeah, no, you're right."

He stood up abruptly, taking a moment to steady himself, and walked to the hatch the he got on the roof from.

"Where're you going?"

"Bottle's empty, I'm going to get more."

"I'll come with you."

"No, it's fine, I'll be back soon," Haymitch called over his shoulder.

"Well, okay, maybe when you come back you can tell me why you feel like it's-"

"No, it's fine, you're right, I'm being stubborn."

He carefully lowered himself onto the ladder and gave Chaff a tight smile before closing the hatch.

"We're all victors for a reason."


	4. Not All Hard Work Pays Off (Cashmere)

Gloss had changed. While before he and Cashmere could trade both physical and verbal blows without anyone getting too hurt. Now, Gloss played almost exclusively on the defense when Cashmere trained and rarely talked back and was way more sensitive to Cashmere's teasing. Not only that, his free-spirited and open demeanor was nearly non-existent. His shift in attitude worried his sister, and more importantly made her worry about what would happen after her own games.

If you asked her a year ago, Cashmere wouldn't have hesitated to volunteer for the games, it was an honour and privilege to fight, entertain and represent her district. Sure, she might die, but it was a small price to pay to keep the Capitol from wiping out another district. But now, she wasn't so sure.

Gloss, as much as Cashmere would hate to admit, was always the stronger of the two. If his dramatic change in personality, not to mention his random disappearances during the day was any indication of what could happen after the games, what would happen to her? _If_ she won. The victors in District 1 seemed to hold themselves together, for the most part, but there were also victors like the morphlings and Chaff who all seemed to be living the worst life.

"Cashmere? Did you hear what I was saying"

Silk's voice pulled Cashmere out of her thoughts.

"Hmmm?"

"You can't be daydreaming when your training, or in the area. Save the ditzy, pretty girl routine for the cameras," scolded one of her mentors.

"Relax Silk, our girl here is smart, let her dream a little before she's in the arena," Wool, another District 1 victor, winked at her before bringing the beer bottle to his lips.

Cashmere gave him a tight smile before shifting her line of sight to her brother, giving him a look that said,

' _god, he's so weird.'_

She expected him to give a look back, instead, he was staring intently at Wool, anger written on his face. Worried about what he would do, Cashmere drew his attention away from the older man.

"I don't know why you're worried about me. Gloss has had his head in the clouds his whole life and he got out fine," Cashmere said to the past victors who sat outside the training center with her. She watched for her brother's reaction, while the others chuckled at her jab towards him. Cashmere noticed Marble watching him too, her eyes darting between Gloss and Wool. Gloss turned his gaze away from Wool to give him her a sardonic smile.

"At least when I space out, I don't look like a morphling during their high."

"At least my breath doesn't tempt flies to fly into my mouth."

Gloss ripped out the grass from under him and sprinkled it above his sister's head, a genuine smile on his face.

Cashmere saw a bit of the person she knew for a moment and felt some relief. He was still him.

"Anyways, what were you asking me Silk?"

"I was asking you if you were ready for tomorrow."

"And the day after that, and the day after that, and the day after that. The games are longer than just a day," Wool interrupted.

"Of course I'm ready. This is what I trained for, isn't it? "Cashmere replied, less than enthusiastically. She was tired of variations of the same question and giving variations of the same answer. "Anyways, all I have to do tomorrow is say 'I volunteer as tribute,' then say my good-byes, except for the fact that most of the people I'm saying good-bye to are coming with me to the Capitol with me."

"Hey, I'm not going to the Capitol. Are you going to say goodbye to me?"

The older man pouted.

Before Cashmere could respond, Marble quickly jumped into the conversation.

"You haven't trained her, Wool, who the hell are you to her?" She gave her fellow victor a light smile, but everything about her said she was ready for a fight. "But, it's Cashmere's last night, and we have plenty of time to talk about the games. How about we just enjoy ourselves," Marble continued, undoing the tension she created.

Cashmere was thankful that Marble took Wool's attention away from her. She looked over to her brother who was grabbing and ripping the grass out from under him. Seeing this, Cashmere retreated into her head, and returned to her worried thoughts.

When the last canon sounded, and she was announced as this year's winner, she felt relief wash over her. Once when she was picked up by the hovercrafts Cashmere sat down and that's when all the exhaustion, fear, and grief that she didn't let herself feel suddenly bubbled up and took over her.

While Cashmere shook and hugged herself, The Capitol Avoxes and workers continued about their business, coldly checking vitals and seeming unbothered by the young girl's breakdown. No words of comfort or praise offered. It was when being attended to by an unsympathetic medic did Cashmere realize that the Capitol didn't care.

* * *

As soon as the thought passed through her head, she was filled with rage. Cashmere thought about how when she was growing up, she was told that it was necessary to send tributes to fight every year, and if you won you would be gifted with glory and a life of comfort and luxury.

But thinking about all the victors she knew she realized, with the exception of District 1,2, and 4, most of them are out of the spotlight. Or, if the rumors were to be believed, their lives were a complete mess. There were clearly problems in the process of the games both before and after, and the Capitol wasn't doing anything about it.

She thought about her allies, no, her friends and all the other tributes. She knew they would be forgotten, like all the other tributes before them. They would barely make the footnotes of the history books.

Cashmere's thoughts drifted off to her district and the victors at home. Most of them seemed fine, except for her brother,

' _Gloss,' she_ thought, _'Gloss will understand.'_

For the rest of her ride, she sat, stewing in her feeling and dying to share her feelings with her brother.

Once she reached the Capitol, Cashmere did her best to keep her cool, at the advice of her mentors, but her feelings were no secret to anyone who wasn't from the Capitol or an Avox. Everyone except for Gloss. He was apparently was too busy with his new Capitol partner who, in Cashmere's opinion, was a little too old for him, to spend time or check up on her.

"You need to be careful about what you say," Silk told her, following the new victor into the living room of her temporary living space "you never know who's listening. You or your family can be punished."

"What are the Avoxes going to do? Tell President Snow? If someone had your tongue ripped out, how loyal would you be to them?"

Cashmere then turned to the Avox attending to her and gave him a sarcastic smile.

"You can keep out secrets, can't you?"

The Avox simply looked at Cashmere in the eyes then up toward the corner of the room. Cashmere followed their gaze to see her reflection in the lens of a small camera.

She couldn't help it. Cashmere stuck up middle finger.

She was startled by the sound of laughter and saw Marble lounging on the couch.

* * *

It was only after their time in the Capitol, after the interviews and the ceremonies, once the train brought them back to District 1, and days after Cashmere settled into her not-so-new home next to her brother's house, where she lived in just a month or two ago with their mother and younger brother, Charm, it was only after all of that did Cashmere and Gloss finally find time to talk.

Cashmere sat on top of the kitchen counter, watching her brother try to knot the dough that she made into the shape they saw in the Capitol Bakeries.

"I have a question."

"Yeah," said Gloss, focused on trying to

"Who's your new arm candy?"

Gloss looked up from the dough, his face turned red, but he quickly put on a neutral expression and looked back down.

"They're nobody, don't worry about it. Was that all you wanted to ask?

Deciding to ignore her brother's reaction to her question, Cashmere allowed herself to vent out all the anger and frustration she's been feeling since the end of her games. When she was finally done letting everything out, about how she felt lied and cheated to, and how she formed friendships with her allies and that they will be forgotten by time.

She looked to Gloss for a response. He just said,

"You shouldn't have gotten close with the other tributes. You should have known it would end badly."

Cashmere was confused. They were raised with the same morals and mindset. How could he not feel the same way as her?

"Are you telling me that you didn't form any bonds with your allies? Really? You? You cried when mom made you put back the roly poly you found when you were, like, fourteen."

"I was twelve. But, yes, I was close-ish with some of the tribute I worked with," after a minute of silence, and Cashmere unsatisfied his answer, Gloss asked "You didn't seriously think end well for anyone?"

"What do you mean? All they told us growing up is that winning was the best way to live the best life."

"I mean yeah, nut everything comes with a price. Our house, comfort and financial security cost twenty-three other people's lives."

Giving up on the knot, Gloss shaped the dough into hearts

Cashmere's confusion turned to anger.

"How are you okay with this? We're all being cheated by the Capitol."

"I just had more time to process all this. Also, I kinda saw it coming."

Gloss coolly checked the clock hanging on the wall behind him.

"I gotta go, I have a thing. And C, I'd be careful with what you say."

He left his sister alone in her shiny new house, unsatisfied, fuming, and with unbaked dough.

"Coward," Cashmere whispered to no one but herself.

* * *

That night, after another restless night of nightmare, Cashmere found herself in the training center beating a punching bag until she saw the sky change from navy to light blue through the glass ceiling. She was dripping head to toe with sweat, her arms were heavy, and she wanted to scream.

Gem, her district partner.

 _Thwack._

Antheia and Soranus. District 2.

 _Thwack_

Patch. District 4.

 _Thwack_

Cashmere repeated these names in her head, determined to remember her friends, and pass down their stories on to her trainees. Maybe they would learn from them. Cashmere wasn't sure what they would learn, but something, probably.

The sound of people entering and getting ready for another day of training is what finally made Cashmere step away from the heavily abused equipment. Not wanting to prolong her time in the gym, she quickly grabbed her stuff and left, opting to clean herself up at home. She was exhausted and didn't want to entertain the aspiring victors by answering their repetitive questions.

' _What was it like?'_

' _What did you do for your private session?'_

' _Is it true that you had to get completely naked in front of your fashion and make-up team?'_

Cashmere didn't realize how annoying she used to be until she came back home.

As she hurried out the gym, she ran into Marble, on her way to another day of training the next possible victor.

"Woah, you look like shit."

"I'm just tired, going home."

Cashmere hadn't stopped moving, instead she was just walking backwards, away from the other victor.

"Sounds like a good idea."

The younger girl took this as an end to their conversation and turned away from the training center and towards Victor's Village.

"Hey Cashmere, if you ever need to talk or get things off your chest, you know where to find me," Marble called out to her fellow victor, who was only getting farther and farther away.

Cashmere shouted, "Okay," and, without looking back, gave a thumbs up.

* * *

Once she was back home Cashmere still couldn't wrap her mind around her conversation with her brother.

' _What's wrong with him? Why wasn't Gloss as mad as her?'_

Just finished eating, there was a knock at the door. Cashmere hurried to the door, and before she saw her visitor, she was hit with the saccharine sweet smell of President Snow.

"Hello, Cashmere. If I may borrow your time."

Without waiting for a response, he entered the house and headed for the stairs,

"Let's go to your study."

Too surprised to react Cashmere followed the President as he led her around the house.

Once they reached the room that would be the study Snow took a seat behind the desk and gestured for Cashmere to do the same. She obeyed and cautiously sat across from him.

"I hear you have been...unhappy with the results of the games."

"Yeah, kinda."

President Snow gave her a wry smile. "And why is that?"

"Because the Capitol has us fight and then toss us to the side, and everyone else who fought is forgotten. You lied to us. After I won, I was hidden away and only taken out and decorated when I had to be in front of a camera, like some kind of doll."

"So, if I understand correctly, you feel as if the Capitol does not care for you?"

"Yes..." C said slowly, surprised about how well the President seemed to react. Maybe she would be the person to change how victors and tributes were treated. "I just think the people who are involved with the games can be treated better, and I think if I had an audience with them, I can change it for the better."

"Well young lady, I know there are some people in the Capitol who do care about you and would love to give you their time and attention in exchange for yours."

Cashmere could hardly contain her excitement at the President's words. She was given the chance to make a difference, she was sure that she could change things for the better.

"Thank you for this, President Snow, I promise, I'll make things better for everyone in the game."

"I'm sure you'll please people beyond the gamemakers. In fact, I'm sure Enobaria and Faun can give you a quick rundown of what you will be doing."

" Enobaria and Faun?"

"Oh yes, you're not the first victor we have working in the Capitol."

Cashmere couldn't help but wonder, _'if there are people already working to better the games in the Capitol, how bad was it before?'_

"And I'm sure you'll spend some time with your brother, though you most likely won't be working together."

"My brother? Is that where he's been disappearing to?"

"Disappear? Well unfortunately I'm not so sure about that, though I'll have some people look into it. However, yes, your brother is part of the same program that I will be putting you into."

Cashmere let out a nervous laugh, completely caught off guard with how smoothly things went It seemed too good to be true. "Of course! I mean, what other choice do I have? I'd love to help out in the Capitol, and better the games."

President Snow gave her a smile. "Of course, you'll be staring next year since the games have just ended but I'm sure you'll find, darling, the Capitol cares for you very much."

With that President Snow excused himself and left Cashmere buzzing with excitement about the difference she thought she would make.

Cashmere wasted no time preparing her ideas. The more she put her thoughts onto paper, the more ideas she had. Her favourite project so far was for a book about the fallen tributes.

A way to keep the memory of the past and future tributes.

She didn't know much about the others and kept a mental note to ask their families about them during the victory tour as well as the past victors. But, she did know a bit about her friends so, she bought a note book and wrote what she knew.

Gem wanted to be a Capitol architect.

Antheia loved anything beautiful, and especially loved plants.

Soranus owned three cats despite being allergic to them.

Patch was so observant that he could tell your life story without having to talk to you.

Cashmere continued writing well into the night excited about the year to come.

* * *

AN: This one sorta got away from me.


	5. Don't Think About it (Brutus)

Brutus held his breath. He sat with Lyme, the other District 2 mentor, and their prep team. The remaining two tributes were going head to head in combat, both found themselves with swords and both were of equal skill and caliber.

' _C'mon, just one good swipe and you're done.'_

He stared at the projection in front of him, Enobaria was locked in a fierce battle with her formal ally and final obstacle keeping her from going home. Watching her, Brutus couldn't help but be reminded of his district partner. They had the same viciousness in their actions. Of course, District 2 tributes were taught the same strategies and trained with the same weapons, but it's hard to replicate spirit.

Brutus sometimes wondered what would have happened if his partner had won. How would she have turned out? He hoped to himself that his guilt would go away if Enobaria won.

' _Not now,'_ he told himself.

He forced his mind to pay attention to the game where, at the moment, the smaller and nimbler District 1 tribute was able to get in close and kick Enobaria in the stomach, only causing her to stumble back. It was enough to make Enobaria lose focus for a second and gave the other girl the opportunity to knock the sword out of her hand. Unarmed, she righted herself and ran towards her attacker. Brutus knew that Enobaria knew how to fight and defend herself without a weapon, but then she did something Brutus didn't think even she could comprehend. She bit her.

The District 2 tribute had tackled her former ally, pinned her to the ground, and bit her neck. Even Caesar Flickerman didn't know what to say.

Both tributes' eyes were wide with shock. One's quickly turned to panic, while the other's turned feral. The District 1 girl struggled to free herself and get air through her crushed windpipe. Enobaria clamped down harder. She was like a peacekeeper's dog, refusing to let go until they were sure that the job was done. Soon, there was no movement and the final cannon was fired and the hosts' eccentric commentary resumed.

The room breathed a sigh of relief, some toasted their glasses in small celebration. A poor stylist's hand was crushed by Lyme who grabbed it in celebration.

With that Brutus got up and turned away from the games, he had seen enough. He headed to his room to prepare for tomorrow.

He would see Enobaria soon, and he, Lyme, and the other District 2 victors at home would prepare her for life after the games. No doubt the Capitol would be all over her and her winning move for a while.

To Brutus's surprise, Enobaria seemed completely unfazed by her actions.

"I did what I had to do, just like everyone else," she would say.

She mostly kept to herself when she got back. Brutus couldn't blame her, and honestly wasn't complaining. Her absence gave he and Lyme time to write and personally hand deliver their thank-you gifts and notes to their sponsors, new and old. Her trauma could be dealt with later.

Brutus didn't like suits or any of the Capitol's idea of 'fashion' but, he asked their district's stylist to get him something in style for him to wear. Lyme of course, knew the ins and outs of the everchanging Capitol style and, as always, reprimanded him for not owning anything the Capitol considered presentable.

"Why would I get something I wear less than three months a year when it won't be considered chic the next year?"

"The more appealing you look-"

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard it a million times, I'll get a black suit. Happy?"

Before Lyme could respond, the Capitol sponsor they had an appointment with had arrived and waddled toward them.

"Brutus! Lyme! I'm happy to see that my investment paid off," he greeted them, taking a seat.

"Of course, Nero, we don't just spew hot air, like some other districts," Lyme said.

"We told you our girl was a fighter," Brutus added coolly.

Nero laughed.

"Brutus, blunt as always," he signaled an avox over to them "how about something to drink, maybe that will lighten you up, eh?"

He paused, expectantly.

"It's on us," Lyme chirped, pointing to what she would have to the avox attending to them, "as a thank you."

"Oh of course! How kind of you two."

Brutus had to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

' _He seems eager for free food for someone who clearly had enough money to buy, staff, and cater multiple banquet halls.'_

For the rest of the lunch, they mostly let the large man ramble about himself and his opinions while. Near the end of the meal the conversation had circled back to the games.

"You know, I knew Enobaria could do it, District 2 always knows how to give results. Though, if I may suggest, maybe add some flair in their actions, a twirl or two, it wouldn't kill them, well," Nero chuckled at his poor choice of words "You know what I mean."

From under the table Lyme grabbed Brutus's hand and held a tight grip. In response he gently pulled his hand out from under hers and placed his hand on top of hers then began to lightly tap a familiar rhythm. It was in the rhythm of a District 2 celebratory song they would play and dance to when their tribute had won the games.

While this small exchange was happening, Lyme kept a polite smile on her face as Nero still laughed awkwardly in the few seconds of silence from the two victors.

Brutus gave him wry smile, "Nero, I know you're a funny man, I think we both know you can do better."

The older man cleared his throat.

"Yes of course, but I do have to say Enobaria has a lot of gusto. Her last move? My, my."

"Quite a showstopper," Lyme agreed.

"But of course, she benefitted from the medicines sent to her which we were able to get thanks to sponsors like you," Brutus said, trying to lay the flattery on thick.

" I'm proud to be a part of her victory, haven't see such ferocity since your games, Brutus, she's a lot like your sister."

Now it was Brutus's turn, his tapping hand froze, and his fingers dug into Lyme's arm.

"It's a shame you two had to be in the same game, would have been quite a pair, had you been in separate ones."

Lyme barely stopped Brutus from standing up and making a mess of things.

"Oh! I'm so sorry Nero, time passes so quickly, I just realized we have another appointment to go to, and Enobaria has an interview tonight, Brutus, why don't you go pay for our meal."

Taking this as an out, Brutus got up and left the table while his fellow mentor handed him the prepared thank you basket. Once the bill was payed, he waited outside, calming himself. He looked up to watch the sinking of the sun behind the buildings through the reflection of the windows from the taller buildings.

' _I'll deal with my sister later, just get through this first.'_

Lyme strutted out of the restaurant taking him out of his thoughts.

"C'mon, let's go. Enobaria is probably being tortured by the prep team."

The prep team was fluffing up Enobaria's dress for her final interview. Looking at her, you couldn't tell that she had went through a harrowing couple of weeks. The girly red dress looked wrong, like it was trying to convey innocence when the wearer was was anything but. Everyone in the room seemed aware of this, except for the prep team. They chatted excitedly, completely unaware of their subject's discomfort.

"I still don't get why I have to wear a dress, plenty of other female victors wore suits," Enobaria complained.

"You look best in a dress," Lyme reminded her for the fifth time "the more appealing you look, the more people will like you," she walked toward her former mentee and took her hands, "the more people like you, the nicer they'll be -"

"And the less likely they'll want to hurt you and see you fail," Brutus finished his friend's Mantra, his eyes not leaving the screen showing Caesar's current interview.

"But I don't need to win over sponsors anymore."

"What about next year's tributes? Or the one's after that? You're going to have to sell our tributes."

Brutus took his eyes off the screen and for a second was startled by how similar Enobaria looked like his sister and how her dress looked like his sister's before they entered their Games. He pushed the thought out of his mind and joined the girls as the prep team excused themselves to take their seats.

"Don't forget," he looked around to see who was around and lowered his voice as an extra measure, "the games don't end after the arena, we need to play the long game."

Enobaria groaned and pulled away from her mentors,

"If I knew I had to care about public perception, I wouldn't have volunteered."

"It's just for the cameras, you can look however you want when we get home."

Lyme reached for her hand again and before the younger woman could reply said,

"Just a few minutes, and you can walk out in nothing but your underwear, if you want to. Now, you're on in thirty, let's put your game face on."

She led Enobaria to the side of the stage. Both held hands until the young girl stepped into the spotlight.

Lyme stepped back to stand next to stand next to Brutus.

"We're bringing another one home."

Brutus couldn't help but think for a second,

' _I'm bringing Zale home.'_

* * *

Edit: Switched some names up. Thank you Divinely Sweet Ambrosiac for pointing it out.


End file.
